


Whatever Floats Your Boat

by GermanShepherd



Category: To the Ends of the Earth - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pining, Swimming lesson, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermanShepherd/pseuds/GermanShepherd
Summary: “You don’t mean to tell me you can’t swim?”“Sailors intend to stay upon their ship, Edmund, not in the water around it.”Edmund teaches Charles to swim. This is set after the voyage to Australia, in a sort-of AU where Charles lives. Since neither of them have certain positions anymore, they are both killing time and hanging out at Government House, where Edmund was meant to take up office.





	Whatever Floats Your Boat

They stood on the pristine beach after their customary post-breakfast constitutional, looking out at the foreign ocean and feeling the salt on their faces. Charles missed the sea, or rather, he missed being on a ship upon the sea, separated from the water by God’s grace and several dozen feet of wood. He looked over at Edmund, beautiful, naïve Edmund, who had no idea of either the sea or of Charles’ inclinations. No, that wasn’t quite true; the young man had learned a little of the sea, though not as much as he thought.

            “Shall we go for a little dip?” Edmund asked cheerfully.

            A smile flitted across Charles’ face. “You might, if you wish, but I will stay upon solid land.”

            “A seaman, choosing to stay ashore when the sea is so close?”

            Charles shrugged, content with the sand under his feet.

            Edmund put the pieces together immediately. “You don’t mean to tell me you can’t swim?”

            Charles looked down. A smooth white shell pressed into the sand underneath his boot. “Sailors intend to stay _upon_ their ship, Edmund, not in the water around it.”

            “What happens if you must go overboard?”

            “Generally, in that case, all is lost and you are already dead.”

            Edmund stared at him, dumbfounded. “A sailor who can’t swim?”

            “It is quite common, I assure you.”

            “Are you aware of how ridiculous that sounds? No, I won’t accept it. You must learn to swim.”

            “Edmund, I really don’t think that’s –“

            “Nonsense. We shall start presently.”

            “Now?”

            Edmund had already begun pulling off his boots, and looked up at Charles awkwardly. “Yes!” He hopped on one leg, losing his balance, and fell backwards in a cloud of sand.

            Charles looked out across the water. He knew how treacherous the sea could be. That, perhaps, was why so few sailors could swim: they knew the terror of the ocean so well that they would not dare trying to escape its grasp. When he looked back at Edmund, the man was already down to his drawers and was in the process of pulling off his undershirt.

            “Come, Charles, disrobe!”

            Charles might have blushed had he been ten years younger **.** He pulled off his clothes, folding them tidily next to Edmund’s crumpled pile, and joined Edmund at the waves.

            “Alright. The first and most important matter is knowing how to float. Come,” Edmund said, and waded into the water. Charles watched Edmund’s shoulders, glowing with sunlight, as he followed him into neck-deep water.

            “Edmund?” Charles called out uncertainly.

            “I’ll pull you along if you get swept up, Charles, not to worry. First: you must relax.”

            “How?”

            “The water is your ally.”

            Charles raised an eyebrow.

            Edmund scoffed. “The water will hold you up! I shall show you.” Edmund paddled out a little ways, and moved his arms side to side as he floated there, his head bobbing above the water. “See? I am treading water. Step out here, Charles. The idea is to let the water lift you, while you move your limbs about so as to stay afloat in the one spot.”

            “I cannot see how I shall float,” Charles said. Panic rose in his chest.

            “Nevertheless, you shall,” Edmund replied, then, in a softer voice, “It will be alright. Try, Charles.”

            Charles huffed to himself and stepped towards Edmund, the sand beneath his feet getting further and further away with every step. The water rose; he stretched his neck to keep his head above water; his body became tense and his heart pounded in his chest.

            “Yes, it’s alright. Breathe, now, slowly. Move your arms from side to side. Slowly, no need to panic. You’re alright.”

            Edmund moved closer to Charles and held his arms out, almost touching him.

            “That’s good,” he said, close to Charles’ ear, and Charles shivered, though not because of the temperature of the water. “Breathe, deeper.”

            Charles shut his eyes and focused on the feeling of the water holding him up. Inhale, exhale.

            “You’ve done it, Charles, you’re floating!”

            Charles opened his eyes and saw Edmund in front of him, an honest grin spread across his face. His breath seized up and he felt himself grow heavy again.

            “Relax,” Edmund said, chuckling and grabbing Charles’ arms. “Relax, Charles. You’ll float. Just paddle with your hands, back and forth, like…like oars.”

            Oars. That was something Charles was familiar with. He imagined himself as a little dinghy, floating by virtue of of buoyancy, kept in place by the oars that were his arms and legs.

            “Yes, good, slowly,” Edmund, said absently, watching Charles. A grin spread across his face. “You’ve got it. One can tread water for hours, if need be.”

            “It need not be,” Charles said. “Can we return to shore?”

            “No! I must teach you the backstroke!”

            _Good God,_ Charles thought. “I do not need these skills, Edmund.”

            “Some day, you will thank me. Besides, it is easy. You just lean back” – he leaned back, and his torso peeked out of the water, the little hairs on his chest stuck together with water – “and float, and kick your legs and move your arms like this, and there you have it.” Charles frowned. That seemed like a lot to do all at once, while trying not to sink.

            “I have no doubt you can do it,” Edmund said, treading water again. “Try. I am right here.”

            Charles pursed his lips, but nodded. He leaned back, feeling his body overbalance, and shot upright again the moment the water touched his ears. Edmund laughed.

            “You must trust the water, Charles.”

            “Do _you_ know how ridiculous that sounds?”

            “Trust me, then.”

            Charles pushed his dripping hair out of his eyes. He leaned back again. The water covered his ears and lapped up toward his eyes. He was about to shoot upright again when he felt Edmund’s hand on his shoulder.

            “Breathe deeply. Arch your back.” Edmund’s other hand touched the small of Charles’ back, demonstrating the position. For a short moment, Charles wondered how much of him Edmund would touch if he began to falter. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Edmund’s hand. He pulled breaths deep into his lungs and let them out shudderingly.

            “Now kick your feet. I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

            Charles kicked, making splashes but not moving anywhere.

            “Try to keep your feet under the water.”

            He did, and began to move.

            “Good. Now move your arms.”

            He reached back in arcs, moving in the water, but felt that he had begun to sink. Edmund’s hand grew stronger on Charles’ back, reminding him to stay straight.

            “Good!”

            An unexpected wave crashed over Charles’ head, and he spluttered and lost all semblance of his backstroke. He heard Edmund’s laughter over the splashing, and felt Edmund grab hold of him again, one hand on his waist and the other extended for balance.

            “Come, let’s return to shore.”

            His hand guided Charles until their toes hit the sand underfoot. Edmund moved with a spring in his step, as natural in the water as a triton. Charles walked heavy-footed and bedraggled, and sat down in the sand, dripping.

            “I think that went rather well,” Edmund said, sitting down next to him. “Do you see how the water will hold you if you let it?”

            Charles looked at him, then chuckled at the sudden thought: _I wish Edmund would hold me!_ “Yes, I see. I still do not trust it.”

            “Well. That can wait until next time.”

            “Next time?”

            Edmund’s eyes flashed and he grinned. “This was the first swimming lesson of many, my dear lieutenant.”

            Charles sighed, and took in Edmund: his boyish grin, his pale shoulders, his long legs. “Do I have a choice in this matter?” he asked, knowing the answer, and not minding.

            “None, I’m afraid.”

            Charles smiled.


End file.
